Sweet Dish
by Merks
Summary: The tables had turned, and now he was like a thorn in her lions paw. [DrabbleyOneShot]


**Disclaimer:** Nothing in Naruto, no matter how hard I wish it, belongs to me.

She bites her nails, the green-painted walls making her sick. She squirms under the scrutinizing gaze that he's handing her on a platter, and nearly gags on the look hidden behind his eyes.

She can't stand him anymore, and she leaves the room. Not that it makes much of a difference, as he'll follow her wherever she goes.

The tables had turned, and now he was like a thorn in her lions paw. She had followed him around in their younger years, spouting encouragement and praise while he ignored her. Now he followed her, watching her intently, never really speaking unless spoken to.

But it was his mere presence that drove her insane.

In the kitchen, she pours herself a cup of coffee, breathing in its rich aroma and taking a seat at the red plastic table. He has such horrible taste, she thinks, eyeing the black and white pained walls.

He sits across from her, eyes demanding as he watches her. She does her best to ignore him, averting her eyes and gazing around his kitchen.

Why did she even come here in the first place? To talk, that's what she keeps reminding herself. She had to tell him things. Maybe he'd leave her alone then.

"Listen," her voice is bitter, like the un-marred coffee she keeps swallowing.

He simply stares at her, the only sign he had heard her being the spark of curiosity in his eyes.

She continues. "I know you mean well and all," lies, she thinks, but keeps it to herself, "but there comes a time when each charade must end."

She's candy-coating it, though she has no idea why.

"It's not fun to be annoyed, is it?" It sounds like an old thread of revenge for their past, but she knows better. He's played that game too often.

She sets the cup down with a click and stands, grabbing a cube of sugar from the dish on his counter. "No, it isn't. You know that I was naïve at that point, ne?"

He nods as she sits, and the sugar lands in the steaming liquid with a soft splash.

"So, as I was saying, there comes a time when people have to part, no matter how hard it may be for them." Be it biased trouble or not, she lets herself think.

He frowns, but not because of her words.

She continues, knowing it's just an expression he wears. "Meaning," he kicks his feet onto the table and she stands, grabbing her coffee and crossing the kitchen, "we'll have to go our separate ways now. I have a family, and you're imposing on that."

"I thought it was odd when you showed up at my house." He muses, and her lips grow tight in a thin-edged smile.

He stays silent as she explains the fact that she'll be getting married soon, that she's pregnant as well, and he knows he sighs. But not because of those facts, though he won't let her know that.

He watches her features contort as she tries to make sense of his sigh. In reality, there's something behind it, but he really loves to watch her tick these days, so he'll let her think it's because he's _jealous_.

She eventually gives up and he smiles, stretching with a soft yawn. "This conversation is over, ee?"

She rolls her eyes and nods, dumping the leftover coffee in the sink and letting the cup fall, not caring about its welfare. When she turns, he's already departed.

She leaves his house, feeling somewhat refreshed, though she somehow knows that this isn't over.

Inside his room, he tosses his final pillow against the wall, his eyes flaring. So she's pregnant and engaged, eh? Why did he divulge in watching her try to catch his attention instead of drowning her in a river all those years ago? If she has a family, she'll be missed, and if she's to be missed, there'll be questions.

No, her death is definitely out of the question now.

He hates her, he really does. He follows her to find her weakness, but that no longer matters.

He plots, rummaging through his mind for something he can do to rid her from his life when he remembers she's left.

She's gone for good, and if he doesn't search for her, he won't have to worry about her and the sickening color of her hair.

She worries on her way home how he's taking the news, hoping he's not too upset. She doesn't know why she still cares, but she does. Maybe she'll visit later; talk again, maybe just let him watch her again.

But she's got it all wrong.

Setting foot back in that house will cause the flames of hate to ignite, never to be doused until her crimson liquid spills upon it.

The opposite side of love is bitter. It always is.

But for him, it's a sweet recipe that's always best served with a side of psycho.

**Owari  
**I apologize for the confusion. Can anyone tell me who the two people are? It's really not that hard. And if you can, who's the girl marrying?


End file.
